Bedrooms
by maxddi
Summary: It's hard to keep it together when you're the only one left. [Apocalypse AU. Still in progress. Short but somewhat frequent updates.]
1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing that Kyle knew, without a shadow of a doubt, it was that he was about to die. And if, by some miracle, he wasn't dead in the next few seconds, he was going to start praying at night because he must have a guardian angel. But there was no way he was going to survive because he was under attack and why was he still conscious when he should be feeling his brains being ripped out or something gory like that?

Well, a few seconds passed, and he wasn't dead. In fact, he was very alive as was proven by his frantically beating heart and fingertips buzzing with adrenaline. He wasn't sure exactly how, though, as only a minute ago he was face to face with what looked to be half of a face at first glance.

Kyle kept his eyes firmly shut for a few more seconds, listening to his pulse in his ears and allowing it to comfort him. He was alive. Something made it go away.

When he finally let his eyelids flutter open, he almost flew back into the newly blazing fire. He was almost right about this thing having half a face.

It was inevitable that Kyle would eventually have to look at a Creature. You have to kill them to survive in this new world. It was really just the timing of this attack that had frightened him the most. After losing his dad, his last family member and ally, only the day before… to be attacked so soon after being left alone… it left him with the strangest sense of foreboding he'd ever felt.

Kyle couldn't look at the thing for more than a second at a time. Not long enough to gather a description of its appearance. He felt almost as if looking at it for too long would break him; turn him into some blank, jellylike being who couldn't even start a fire.

It took him a little over three hours to fully butcher up the wretched-smelling dead thing. He still had no idea what had saved him from Death only seconds before he would have met Him. All he knew was there was a clean hole through the front of the leathery forehead (that he would really rather not have jabbed a finger in by accident).

Only once there was a gruesome pile of dismembered limbs fueling his safety fire did Kyle feel comfortable enough to assess not only his current situation but also events that had just taken place.

He was alone. Completely, hopelessly alone in a place he couldn't even recognize as his hometown anymore. It was desolate. He hadn't seen another living soul since his dad, and not for over a week before then. Kyle was beginning to wonder if he truly was the last one left in South Park when he remembered the neat hole in the Creature's skull. A hole like that doesn't just appear like that. A hole like that is man made.

Which means he's not alone in this place.

The thought of another human being; another pair of ready eyes to watch his back, a working weapon to defend them, another hand to hold… The thought of it was too comforting to allow for now.

That was one of the worst things about the world lately: the crippling loneliness. It sloshed in Kyle's stomach like tar and weighed his brains down with an echo so loud and heavy that he often worried he'd trip over them.

A quick inspection around his tiny campsite (it really only consisted of a fire, a backpack and a sleeping bag stuffed inside another sleeping bag) revealed…. absolutely nothing. Not a single trace of evidence that any one (or thing) had been there to pop one in the Creature's skull for him. He knew it happened, though. Kyle was nothing if not intelligent.

By the time the first sliver of light peeked over the mountainous backdrop hat framed South Park, Colorado, Kyle knew that come afternoon he'd be severely lamenting his lack of sleep. It would be the best course of action to get on with his daytime missions and forget all about what had happened that night, for now. He could spent the time he wasn't using to keep himself alive to think about his guardian angel.

He needed to find them.

In the spirit of the morning, Kyle brewed some black tea, keeping his nose pinched as much as he could to block out the horrid stench of singed flesh, and nibbled down half a cereal bar. His father had made a point of making sure Kyle knew the importance of breakfast. It was wiser to eat small portions of food throughout the day than try to starve to conserve food. That wouldn't help anything. Or so his dad had told him, anyway.

The brief memory of his dad sent his body back in time and he once again felt the burning heat of the man's infected skin and his fond gaze. It didn't hurt to remember him. He'd expected to be a lot more shaken, but it seemed that Kyle's well of emotions had run almost dry.

It almost pained Kyle to leave his campsite in his tracks; backpack stuffed to the brim with he bare essentials, Gerald Broflovski's sharpened survival knife triple roped securely to one of his belt loops. He'd yet to use that knife in self defense (or offense, for that matter) but he knew by the ease in which it pierced an aluminum can, like sliding through melted butter, that with this weapon on hand he could be a formidable opponent. The idea almost excited him.

Kyle used a brisk jog to reach his destination, a feebly barricaded bakery in the town's center square. He knew how easy it would be to make his own bread if he could just get his hand on a bag of flour. It would be weeks until he'd need to venture out again for food.

The creaks and groans only just permeating the outside walls of the bakery sent Kyle's body in a frenzy once again. Those noises could, realistically, be anything. They didn't have to be sounds of the rotting, grimy limbs tumbling around all over (possibly) his food. The thought compelled him to unravel his knife from its ropes and hold it in front of him like a combination between a warning and a white flag.

A light tap on the thick planks of layered plywood concealing the otherwise gaping entrance was all it took to change Kyle's life that day. It had never occurred to him for a second that the lethargic footfalls he knew he heard from outside that tiny bakery could have belonged to another human. It had never occurred to him that his guardian angel would materialize in the form of blonde hair, blue eyes and tight jeans.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a complete mystery to Kyle how someone like Butters Stotch could have survived the last few weeks. Surveying his face alone revealed to him how hard the blond must have been fighting for his life; scabbed over gashes and faint pink scars protruded from areas of skin where there definitely was not any before.

But no matter how little Kyle expected of Butters survival skills, having him right in front of him, solid and warm and glowing with a strange positivity that Kyle appreciated and hated, was more of a morale boost than he could have ever asked for.

He knew somewhere in his distant brain that Butters was speaking to him, though by the intonation of the words he knew he didn't need to reply to anything. He was safe to gawk at the boy for at least a little longer.

Kyle wondered privately if Butters would consider talking him to sleep. He wouldn't care what time of the day it was, if he was consequently eaten or stolen. He'd gladly be lulled into his doom by that voice.

"Kyle?"

Kyle blinked slowly as he came back to reality, noticing the worried downturn to his companion's lips as he gazed at him.

"A-are ya sick – or somethin'?" The blonde mashed his knuckles together as he was always known to do when he was feeling anxious. How the hell had he survived this long? "Because I wanna help ya, Kyle, b-but I dunno if I can pick up your slack… I'm not really used to workin' for two…"

Kyle waited until Butters was finished talking to correct him, just in case he said something telling. He didn't want to interrupt. "I'm fine, Butters. Not a scratch on me, I promise."

Butters gave a little nod as he slid gracefully back down onto the fake floorboards. "Well, all right then." was all he said before he made his way back over to the front entrance of the bakery. Panic bubbled up in Kyle's weak stomach, joined immediately by the tar-like substance of loneliness.

"Wait – Butters! Don't leave yet!" Kyle almost begged. He'd jumped down from the counter too without realizing, his hand stretched out toward Butters retreating figure. He looked back with a simple frown and cocked his head to the side.

"I'm not goin' anywhere. Just gotta close up the door is all."

Relief and embarrassment wormed heir way into Kyle's gut full of feelings. Of course he wouldn't leave him here alone so soon. Surely Butters could see how alone he was. He was always the most compassionate in that way.

After sliding the plank over and blocking out any natural light the two were bathed in from the entrance, Butters flicked a lit match seemingly from nowhere into the candleholder Kyle hadn't seen before. A small flame shot up, lighting up their immediate area just enough to make out each other's features.

Butters stood in front of the lantern, soaking the little heat it provided into the palms of his outstretched hands. His face, nicked and scratched, glowed yellow in the flickering light as did his hair, and Kyle almost laughed at how _yellow_ he was. Everything about him seemed to radiate and create an aura of yellow.

They talked for hours about trivial things; both skating around anything they thought would scare the other away obviously. Kyle told Butters all about his incident that morning and the hole in the Creature's head. He responded with a noncommittal shrug and told Kyle it could have been anything, really. Butters told Kyle about his recent trip through the cinema and Kyle immediately filed all mental images away in the very back archives of his brain and hoped he'd never see them again.

A period of uncomfortable silence followed, punctured occasionally only by the settling of the building around them or the creaking of the bench top under their shifting weight. It was a long time before anyone spoke again.

"Are you alone?" Kyle muttered into the empty silence. Butters barely turned to examine Kyle's face out the corner of his eye, looking for something there. He nodded hesitantly, as if that kind of information was dangerous to give out.

"Since the beginning, I guess."

It wasn't a carefree, nonchalant answer as Kyle had grown used to over the years, but it was permission to ask his question, and he took it. He dug through the side pouch in his backpack and pulled out a bottle of fresh water, which he offered to Butters, "Do you want to be?"

He grinned the slightest bit and gingerly took the water bottle, "I don't, and I'm guessin' you don't either."

Kyle's replying shake of the head conveyed a shadow of the relief he felt and when they left the bakery that evening with their packs weighed down with flour, Kyle was sure he could see it in Butters too.


	3. Chapter 3

When the sun had risen enough for Kyle to see through the thin veil of his eyelids and Butters had already boiled the water, he knew he would never regret deciding to stick with him. It might not seem like that big a deal, but a hot drink in the morning was a morale booster like no other.

"Mornin'." Butters greeted as Kyle took the single glass from him. It was the only drinking utensil they had, so he was planning to drink down his coffee fast in case Butters wanted it back. "I was thinkin' once you're up we could go explorin'?"

It was way too early in the morning, having just cracked his eyes open, for Kyle to even think about exploring. He nodded his simple reply and drank from the glass. It wasn't the best coffee, he was sure he'd felt some dirt pass down with the drink, but he couldn't ask for anything more.

They'd opted to stay the night in the dense forest area around Stark's Pond, where it was safe to light fire on the path and both directions were open and clear in case they needed to get away quick.

As cold and damp as it was around the pond, Kyle sensed Butters loved this place.

They had considered staying put in the bakery, but it was so horribly fortified and vulnerable that Kyle felt like a gust of wind could have knocked down their protection. They were better off out in the open.

Butters had taken to repairing Kyle's threadbare outer sleeping bag as soon as he'd noticed one of the laddered rips, a passion like a thousand suns in his eyes as he threaded the needle and made the first stitch. It was almost an enlightening experience, Kyle thought, watching someone so captivated while doing such a simple, nearly uncalled for, chore. But like he would soon grow to know, he'd never have to wait too long for an explanation to Butters actions.

"Y'know what's really been getting' to me lately?" he mumbled as he worked, and Kyle had to double check to make sure he wasn't hearing things. They'd been quiet for quite a while. Butters raised his rosy face expectantly, and Kyle shrugged; an encouragement to continue. "This darn boredom! There's nothin' to do!"

Kyle just observed as Butters ranted, silently agreeing, though he'd been trying to keep himself busy by shredding bark to add to their dwindling fire.

"Now that there's two of us – so we have safety in numbers and all that – what do ya reckon we go lookin' for somethin' to do?" Butters suggested energetically, his desire for more fun shining bright in those honest eyes of his. Kyle took a second to compile his distracted thoughts into an answer.

"I mean… that sounds great, but shouldn't we have, like, a plan or something?" he asked with an air of not really know what he was talking about. He didn't know what was out there like Butters did, his face was scar-free. "We've only just grouped up and to be honest it would kind of suck to be separated already."

If Butters needed to sort through his thoughts at all, he did it very quickly. "W-well, that would be kind of a shame…" he agreed, kicking a little tornado of ash up with the front of his sneaker, "but I know my way around, Kyle, s-so don't worry!"

With that reassurance, Butters rolled up Kyle's good-as-knew (as far as he was concerned) sleeping bag and carefully tucked it in the other's backpack before lithely climbing up a few branches of a tree nearby. Kyle didn't have a clue why he would do such a thing until he came back minutes later with an armful of dry twigs for their fire. He threw his fistful of painstakingly shredded bark fibers on top of them, feeling especially insignificant in comparison.

_How did Butters survive this long? _

Despite every one of his brain cells screaming at him that it was a bad idea, Kyle agreed to follow Butters into town once again. To search for fun. He was sure he'd eventually look back on this and realize what a dumb decision it was, but how could he refuse Butters fun when he looked at him with those eyes? It was a lost cause from the first protest.

"So…" he started, a day later with their camp in their tracks and their mind already wired on the course to their destination; the Manor. "You definitely know how to get there safely? I have this," he tapped his fingers against the handle of his knife still secure in his belt, "but I'd really prefer to not have to use it."

Butters averted his gaze from Kyle's face to one of the many indistinguishable trees up ahead. "I mean, I-I can't really promise no trouble…" he stuttered, the pressure of leading another human safely through the backstreets of town obviously now weighing on him a little heavier. Butters didn't want to be the cause of any marks on Kyle's unmarred skin. "Sometimes a Thing comes outta nowhere a-and you just gotta do your best to improvise… But the backstreets _are_ a whole lot safer."

It was quiet for a little longer then, the only noises piercing the silence around the boys being the crunching of icy gravel under their worn shoes. It was easy to find peace in the quiet and the company of an old friend, but Kyle knew he couldn't let himself get complacent with the situation. He needed to keep on guard. Watch Butters blind spots and hope he'd reciprocate. It would be much too easy to let himself get _too_ comfortable.

It didn't take them as long to get to the backstreets of South Park as it took Kyle to get to the bakery. The sun wasn't even high in the sky by the time their destination was in view, a monstrous construction of fancy brickwork surrounded by a few months' worth of decay. With every step in front of him Kyle regretted this more and more. He couldn't imagine himself walking back out through those double doors after walking in.

He felt a light pressure on his arm and grabbed at it, his nerves completely on end. Before he could even realize it was Butters, the blond had taken him by the shoulders and forced him to stop walking. It was really not an appropriate thing to do in their current situation: grabbing him like that.

"Stay still for a second," Butters ordered softly, handling Kyle as if he would disintegrate with the slightest brush of his fingers. Kyle did as he said and kept rigid, though when Butters wrapped his arms around him the instinct to fight it roared in his chest so fiercely it was almost a physical pain. "We'll be alright, Kyle, just gotta keep it together. Well, I ain't lasted this long by losin' my nut, of course."

After the initial panic of being surrounded by a barrier of flesh faded away, it annoyed Kyle that he felt utterly comfortable hugging Butters. He shouldn't have let himself comfortable, there in the middle of the road. They shouldn't have talked so loudly. They shouldn't have taken the back roads after all.

"Do you hear that?!"

Kyle's voice was barely above a whisper, but Butters understood perfectly. He whipped his head around to scan the area, in positions that would have disturbed Kyle had his eyes not been so intensely focused on the second floor window of the Black's manor.

The sound was metallic, Kyle was sure, and loud enough that the source should have been close enough to see.

"Fuck, Butters…"

That was the worst part, not being able to see it. It was there, something. Kyle flinched as he heard the sound again, and unashamedly ducked behind Butters, taking a white-knuckle grip on the straps of his backpack. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Why did Butters goofy face have to be so charmingly convincing?! He was never letting that face convince him of anything else.

If Kyle had thought his first encounter with a Creature had been bad, he could not have prepared himself for the second.

It came out from nowhere, like it had spawned on top of him. He knew that wasn't true, his dad told him these things were man made. Abominations of science. But it didn't matter what they were when their horrid, stinking flesh was pinning him into the concrete with the weight of what could have been a small car.

He couldn't hear for very long before his ears were filled with the strangely distant sounds of his own hacking coughs, but in the gaps he knew he heard Butters saving him. He wished he didn't. It sounded like ripping and trickling and several other fleshy sounds that began fading with his vision.

He was sure he'd wake up soon when he felt the air travelling back into his lungs and past his singed nose hairs. He was also sure hat he'd appreciate that new, bloody gash on his cheek a lot more, too; his first one.  
_

/ Hi, just a note, I had a _lot _of this story written but lost it all when my macbook restarted and yeah... So for the next five or six chapters (as well as this one), it's stuff I have had to rewrite. Sorry if my writing comes off as a little frustrated. Thank you for the review! 3


	4. Chapter 4

It'd been a while since Kyle had picked up a violin. When he'd spotted the worn, corrupt looking thing hanging on the wall, he was glad to be taken back to a time when he knew how to play Mary Had a Little Lamb without looking at the sheets.

A couple of the strings were snapped, to his great dismay, and it hadn't fared well through the trials of the last few months. It actually looked as though it'd been used as a weapon.

"Shame, I'd've liked to hear ya play some of that, might've been a real mood booster…"

Kyle mostly ignored Butters words because their faces were so close together and it was hard to concentrate on what someone was saying when their words were muffled by the proximity to one's ear. He pulled away casually and went over to inspect the bookshelf instead.

Every step Kyle took produced another pang of pain somewhere in his tired body. It really was amazing what a dose of trauma, lack of sleep, and a little intense downward force can do to a person. He was grateful to finally be in a place safe enough that he didn't need to watch his own spine for a while.

The Black's house was one of the last places Kyle would have expected to go to find a wealth of supplies. If anything, he'd thought the looters would have ransacked the place straightaway and left it open for he Creatures to hide out in. According to Butters, though, that wasn't the case after all.

It had taken them over a day to get back there after a few stops around the desolate town to some of the stores that were still mostly safe and intact. At least they wouldn't be running out of powdered milk and flour and instant coffee any time soon.

The bookcase in the Blacks' study was really more like a mini library. It took up an entire wall and had one of those ladders that slid side to side to make it easier to reach the books on the higher shelves. Butters was digging through the top shelf while Kyle was running his fingers down the spine of a leather bound journal he'd found in the desk.

"What've you got there, sunshine?" Butters called down from the top rung of the ladder. Kyle flipped the journal open to the first page, then flicked through the rest with the tip of his thumb. It was completely untouched, the whole book. Kyle almost couldn't believe his luck.

"Blank journal!" he called back up, conveying the same amount of excitement with his words he would had he just uncovered a large stash of in-date skittles.

The book seemed to interest Butters, too, who took two rungs at a time in his rush to see what Kyle had found. He held his hand out as a request to hold it and admired its rustic binding. He'd never much been a fan of reading, but he could definitely appreciate a pretty looking book. And this journal was immaculate.

"Please tell me you're thinking what I'm thinking."

Butters ignored Kyle and took one more second to take in the bumpy exterior of the book before flipping it open to the first lined page. He strolled over to the desk Kyle had just been searching through and dug around until he found a cheap black pen and scribbled the date down in the top corner. There marked the first recorded day of their journey. Kyle watched from the sidelines, still waiting for an answer to his question, but also intrigued by what Butters was about to write in the journal.

'My name is Butters Stotch and I like root beer.' Were the first things Kyle could make out of the blond's chicken scrawl handwriting and he found himself already charmed. 'I'm also the second last survivor in South Park, so we'll see how that goes. I'm hoping to find some beef jerky around here some time, I bet it'd surprise you to know that we're pretty much wiped clean of it but I ain't giving up. I'm gonna fight for that beef jerky.'

It was simple and goofy and definitely not as informative as Kyle was imagining, but it was also perfect. That is, if anyone would be able to read it. The boy's handwriting looked like a series of differently sized loops and angles. How endearing those loops and angles were, though.

Kyle caught himself noticing the stark contrast between Butters and himself. It wasn't the first time it had crossed his mind. When they were younger, Kyle based a completely unwarranted dislike of Butters on the fact that they were very different from each other. Like colours on the very opposite sides of the spectrum; Butters was the sun and Kyle was the moon. A much too poetic analogy, Kyle mentally scolded himself. He had a habit of doing that.

Butters tucked the journal and cheap pen safely away in the waterproof pouch of his backpack, an unfortunately small smile gracing his face as he watched his fingers move. Butters appreciated every movement he made, Kyle noticed. "Nice diary entry." He croaked, voice a little hoarse from having been silent for a while.

"What can I say? A month without beef jerky is a month too long." he replied with a similar hoarseness that suited him much better. "I can't wait to see your diary entry. Speaking of you, how're ya feelin'?"

Without the weight of so much flour and sleeping bags and all their gear, Kyle was definitely feeling the bruising a lot less, though the sickness he felt from the lingering memory remained. "I'm alive. Thank you so much for that." he replied as sincerely as he could manage without sounding too sappy. It didn't seem like the answer Butters was looking for, based on his tilted head and pursed lips, but Kyle chose not to elaborate further.

The creaks and groans of the old wooden floorboards startled the boys every few minutes of their stay in the Black's mansion, and led to probably the investigation of the decade when Kyle decided to take a look around the second floor. Anyone could have told him it was probably a bad idea, and one would think he'd listen considering his recent experiences, but the wonder and allure of the second floor was enough to make him ignore his instincts.

"You got your knife out, daredevil?" Butters whispered from the bottom step, an unidentifiable wooden object clutched in his palm. Kyle flashed his survival knife back at him and slowly climbed the staircase. It was a much more suspenseful event than it needed to be. When he finally reached the top, Kyle examined the landing and peeked in through all the open doors, and almost fell back down when he found the most startling sight.

"Butters! Get up here!"

Butters rushed to his side, throwing caution to the wind as he was obviously startled by Kyle's urgency. He turned to face the direction in which Kyle was staring, his grip tightening on his secret weapon just in case. It was a light. A bluey-green, glowing light that cast an eerie blurred rectangle on Kyle's pallor. It could have been anything, logically, but the first thing that came to Butters' mind was fairies, out of all the possibilities.

"It's a light, Butters. How is there a light?"

Again, Butters didn't respond. He glanced sheepishly back at Kyle and hid what he was hiding in his pocket. Somewhat confused by Butters behavior, Kyle started making his way toward the source of the light, wound up and ready to spring at the slightest indication of danger. He could faintly hear Butters footsteps behind him and took comfort in them.

The lights could have been anything, logically, but of all the possibilities; they were stars.


	5. Chapter 5

Mattresses were a luxury Kyle was almost certain he wouldn't have access to for a long time. With the way things were, it was dangerous to even enter houses let alone dropping your guard in one and having a comfortable night in a bed. That was before he had a strong team member by his side, though.

It was safe to say that night was the best night's sleep he'd ever had and he didn't even have time to feel sorry for Butters who'd kindly offered to stay up half the night to keep watch for him in exchange for Kyle doing the same for him. It was a pretty fair deal.

"Hey, are you awake…?"

Kyle had a suspicion that Butters actually wasn't awake, he'd been silent and unmoving for hours now, but he nodded as if he was.

"I was just thinking… We can't stay here forever, right? It's useless. And things might be better in Denver. We have no idea what's going on outside of South Park."

It wasn't the most sophisticated idea and he knew he could have put it a lot more elegantly but despite the amazing sleep he'd just had, his mind was still in a strange place. It didn't matter anyway, though. Butters barely stirred. Kyle took a deep breath and puffed it out as he flopped as gently as he could onto the bed below Butters' curled up frame.

He'd spent the last few hours counting the green stars on the roof and at first he'd counted one hundred and seventeen. That didn't add up to him, though. Who'd make a pack of glowing star stickers with one hundred and seventeen stars? A second count revealed the truth: there was actually a hundred and twenty, as he'd suspected.

Butters slept longer than Kyle did. In fact, Kyle guessed it was probably almost eight by the time he rolled off the mattress and greeted the wooden floor good morning. Keeping watch over him was quite the dull job, there wasn't even any suspicious sounds in the night for him to check out.

"Where do you propose we 'explore' next?" Kyle asked curiously once they'd cleared their packs and refilled them with more useful and necessary supplies. He supposed they were pretty well off to have the luxury of exploration without having to worry too much about survival for the time being.

Butters stroked his fingers distractedly over the spine of the journal he'd neatly stored back away and lifted his eyes slowly back to Kyle as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't have been. "Uh, I-I dunno just yet…" he stuttered to Kyle's surprise, "Maybe… the school might be worth checkin' out?"

Kyle covered his grimace with his hands. That didn't sound like a good idea, and he could have sworn Butters said something about already checking it out, anyway… "I don't think so, dude. I'd say that place is wrecked."

The little disheartened smile Butters tried to hide was enough to make Kyle feel guilty for no apparent reason. Why was the school so important to Butters? It wasn't as if he was that interested in his grades back in the day.

He decided he'd inquire further later on, but set back out into the back dining room of the Manor where he'd found the door to the garage. If he could get in there, he could only guess what kind of useful stuff they'd be able to get their hands on.

"Wanna hand, there?" Butters' voice came from much closer than Kyle was expecting. He watched as the other placed his ear to the door, holding a finger up to his lips, and jiggled the door handle around. It was no use, the thing was either locked, jammed shut, or blocked on the other side. It only took a few gentle taps for Butters to figure out which, much to Kyle's chagrin. He'd been working on the door for ten minutes.

"We're gonna have to get in from the other side. There's somethin' up against the door." Butters revealed begrudgingly after a second. Kyle cracked his knuckles together impatiently, he idea of leaving the safety of the house seeming like too much risk. The thought of the rewards in the garage quickly changed his mind.

It took Kyle only a second to get the roller door out the front of the house open while Butters kept watch. He still didn't know how Butters protected himself; he'd never seen him with a weapon. He trusted him with his life anyway, as premature as it may sound after only a few days, he'd proven himself trustworthy.

"You got that?" the blond whispered tensely from a few feet away as Kyle rolled up the door as quietly as he could. He was sure if there were anything inside they would've heard it lumbering around by now.

"I'm good. Get in, quickly."

Without hesitation Butters followed Kyle's order and held the door up as he slid under himself. It was pitch black; Kyle couldn't see his own nose (which would've been unusual in any circumstance). After a few seconds of anxious, panicked silence, Kyle heard a click to his right. He spun to face the noise, fiddling with the rope on his belt. "Wh- Butters?"

A short sigh was all the reply he got until Butters flicked another match and cupped the flame loosely with his hand to allow a few feet of light to escape. "The electricity don't work here. I coulda guessed that one, I suppose."

Kyle let the heat fade from his cheeks before carefully stepping backwards toward the garage door. The light from Butters' match was quickly dimming and they needed to look around this place. All he could do was open it up to the sunlight, an idea he was pretty strongly opposed to. Perhaps he wasn't quite as over his recent attack as he'd thought.

Butters carefully blew out the match and navigated over to help Kyle push the door up. He decided they'd keep it half way closed, but that meant they'd need something to hold it up. Kyle motioned for Butters to stay where he was and scanned the slightly brighter area for something to use. Much to his surprise, there didn't seem to be much of use to their particular situation and he knew what he'd have to do instead. Things just weren't working in his favour that day.

"Um…. I guess you're going to have to boost me, dude. I'm lighter." he mumbled regretfully, unwrapping his precious knife from it's rope with uncooperative, shaky fingers. Butters playfully raised his eyebrows.

"What, are ya tryin' to say somethin'?" he chuckled, linking his hands together and bracing them on his knees. Kyle felt kind of uncomfortable about this. What if he was heavier than he thought he was? It was strange that some of his old teenage insecurities were still there behind the scenes.

He dismissed his worries as ridiculous and stepped into Butters hands and tried to keep the weight off him, rope ready. He looped it through the handle of the door and secured it to a hook above his head before jumping back down to the floor. He really hoped he wouldn't have to do that again. It felt strangely intimate for something so… not.

But the goal was achieved and there was light inside the garage and he was fairly sure they wouldn't need to worry about any of the lurkers sneaking up on them from under the roll up door. Butters smiled curiously at the back of Kyle's head and approached him, sneaking a look over his shoulder as he picked something up.

It wasn't often Butters found someone hard to read. He'd always considered himself good at reading people's faces and behaviors and was able to gauge their emotions pretty well. Maybe it was time he spent completely lone that was throwing his strange semi-superpower off, but this wasn't the first time Kyle had stumped him. He had no idea what the other was thinking about.

That quickly changed, though, when the redhead's expression shifted to something much more recognizable. It was shock and interest and it looked funny to Butters, until he looked down and saw the cassette tape Kyle was holding. He couldn't say it was an amazing discovery, but maybe it could be interesting.

"Kyle? You okay there?" Butters inquired, playfully poking his cheek. Kyle didn't reply, he simply turned around and stuffed the tape into the front pocket of his backpack to stare at, at a later time. "I guess you're okay, then."

Despite not knowing how in the world he'd find the means to play a cassette tape, Kyle was fascinated by it. It was unmarked so it could have been anything. It looked relatively knew, so what if that was someone's last means of recording their story while trapped in this place? The idea didn't seem so far fetched.

He tried to focus more on the task at hand, though, which was finding useful supplies to take with them.

It didn't take long at all to hit the jackpot, and of course it was Butters who did. Kyle had no idea why he expected so little from Butters, but he had to try to change that mindset. Butters was ten times as mentally stable and physically able as he'd ever been.

"Is…. Dude, is that a tent?!" Kyle exclaimed, unsure if he could trust his vision. Butters shifted excitedly from foot to foot and pulled a peg out of the little pocket full of them attached to the tent bag. "You've got to be kidding me…"

"So, Mr. Broflovski, how d'ya feel about sharing this tent with me?" Butters said, fluttering his eyelashes as he spoke. Kyle flicked the burnt out match he'd been holding onto at him and tried to ignore that, instead holding his hand out for the tent. Butters handed it to him and spun around to continue digging through the bottom shelf he was previously searching.

The tent didn't seem big, but then again, they didn't need big. A little portable shelter would go a long way for setting up a camp whenever and wherever they needed to, which meant a lot of good things that Kyle was too giddy to think about in too much detail. He clipped the bag to both sides of his backpack, pleased with how light it was, and turned to final box in the stack he'd been rifling through.

This particular box was labeled '4-9' and strangely enough, was scribbled all over with blue marker. A kid probably owned whatever was in the box, but if he was going to search he was going to do it well. He slid his knife down he tape holding the box together and dumped the contents onto the floor in front of him. Meanwhile, he vaguely heard Butters listing things they could use from the toolbox he'd found like wire, masking tape, and 'one of those Swiss army things that have all the tools on 'em'.

Inside his box were toys, books, drawings, report cards; it was like he'd thought. These were just the memories of a kid from years ago. He didn't want to look at the pictures of the little boy he kind of knew from school, and he didn't want to think about where he was now. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the drawing, though.

It was a typical little kid's drawing, all scribbles. It was obviously them, though. The little group he used to hang out with back at South Park elementary.

He tugged it out from under a stuffed octopus and took a long look at it. The times had changed a lot since then, in every single way Kyle could think of. Those three were his best friends, as much as he'd thought he hated the fat one. He couldn't even remember their names anymore. He could feel Butters breath warming up his ears but didn't bother to turn around. He was on the drawing, too. Maybe he remembered the other kids' names.

"Y'know, I think we picked this place pretty clean." Butters half whispered hoarsely, scaring Kyle half to death. He folded the drawing in half and slid it in his jacket pocket where he could take it out and think about it later. "D'you wanna get goin'? I bet we could get all the way to U-STOR-IT before it gets dark if we leave now."

With a quick nod and a helping hand off the ground, Kyle agreed to get going. Neither of them knew exactly where they were headed yet, but Kyle was still determined to get to Denver, where maybe things were safer. He wouldn't put Butters past trying to talk him out of it, though.

"So what d'ya think, should we set up that tent tonight? We can put the star stickers inside, too, and it'll be like lookin' at the night sky. More peaceful, though."

Kyle adjusted the weight on his back and leaned into Butters side casually, roping his knife back up to his belt. "Sounds good to me."

_Very late chapter, but I hope the length made up for it! More characters being introduced soon._


End file.
